


Hand me another drink, darlings.

by isissa



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Explicit Language, Fluff, Gen, Other, Reader is gender neutral, Sexual Harrassment, drunk mettaton, mentions of non consent (no actual non con i dont write that), reader happens to be a sarcastic fucker, reader is really vague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 17:19:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6018241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isissa/pseuds/isissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mettaton always pulls this shit with you. Yet another after party where he's gotten himself smashed drunk, and you have to take care of him. Not that you enjoy spending time with him, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hand me another drink, darlings.

**Author's Note:**

> hey quick warning there's discussion of sexual harassment/sex under the influence and the entire fic is about getting drunk so if any of that sets off alarm bells this fic is not for you. it's gonna make you hella uncomfortable, so save yourself and go read some other cute fluff fics ive written instead? i write a lot of them. like all of them are fluff. i have a thing for it.

 

                It’s become all too common a sight. Mettaton is buzzed from performing, Mettaton gets taken to an after party to meet up with big name executives, Mettaton gets drunk, Mettaton gets irresponsible.

                Part of you wonders why Alphys let Mettaton’s body have any reaction to alcohol at all. Considering his personality, not a social drinker as much as a social “get smashed as quickly as possible”-er. Is there a word for that? If there isn’t, there should be one. Maybe you’ll make one.

                Oh god. You’ve been brought out of your trance by the sound of Mettaton’s voice calling someone over to him. It’s a taller man, a human, who’s face you’re unable to place quite exactly, but you’ve seen him before. Mettaton greets him over enthusiastically, throwing his arms around one of his and leaning into him. Your sight and hearing is greatly reduced due to the sheer number of bodies in the room, as you stand by the door and Mettaton is on the other side of the room, countless people blocking your path.

                It’s enough for you to just see him, leaning over to look around a group of men speaking in the center of the room. Before you know it you’re skittering over, stepping between people with your eyes trained on him. You can see the flush of his cheeks, and earlier he was slurring his words. He’s absolutely beyond sober, and as a bonus, he’s cocky since he finished a great concert just an hour prior. Skirting around a woman, you end up behind him, his back to you.

                “Mm, darling, were you watching me out there?” He’s talking to the man he’s wrapped around the arm of. He gets touchy when he’s drunk, but when one of his hand begins to trail down the man’s back, you find yourself stepping forward and clearing your throat.

                “Mettaton.”

                He turns, slipping off the man’s arm and looking at you with surprise. It turns to a smile, and he leans forward to take your hands in his. “Hello sweetheart,” You notice he has a very slight lisp and you hold in a giggle. “what’s my number one manager doing here?”

                Your eyes flicker over to the man Mettaton was hanging off. Now that you’re closer, and he’s facing you directly, you can place him. He works for a rival record company. “Mettaton, you know you’re meant to only talk business when I’m around, don’t you?” You tease through grit teeth, coming off less casual than you’d like.

                Mettaton doesn’t pick up on it though, or chooses not to, eyebrows raised in an innocent façade. “Why I would never. Alexander and I were just catching up. He’s one of my-“

                “Biggest fans.” You finish for him, shooting Alexander a glare. Alexander Strike is many things, but a pure hearted fan is not one of them. He’s a fan of some of the opportunities owning Mettaton’s label would have, though. He’s made that much obvious before. “Would you come with me for a while?”

                Mettaton looks offended and he pouts childishly before pulling you forward. “I don’t see any need to do that, darling.” He releases you and looks back to Alexander Strike, fluttering his eyelashes for him. “Now why don’t you tell me more about how my show went?”

                “Or,” you step forward, Alexander looking over to you. “Mr Strike and I could discuss the recent news in the industry, I’m sure you have heard about what happened to the person from BB who approached Shyren the other month?”

                You’re referring to one of the biggest scumbags in the industry, and from the way his eyebrow twitches, Alexander knows what you’re trying to imply. Alexander himself has been caught getting overly predatory around stars, something which one of the former members of his company got called out for and publicly shamed a few months ago. “It’s a real shame.” He sighs, though his heart doesn’t seem in it. His eyes trail up to the glittering ceiling for a moment before he looks back down at you. Did he just roll his eyes?

                “Absolutely.” You continue, your hands held out as you speak in a shrug. You’re daring Alexander to try and move past you at this point. “I’m so glad those rumours about you didn’t turn into anything _substantial,_ aren’t you Mr Strike?” You drop your hands into your pockets and smirk up at him. “We need people we can _trust_ in the music industry.”

                Alexander is a master of keeping his cool, so he just shrugs you off. “I’m sure you would think that.”

                “You don’t think it’s good to be trustworthy?”

                He crosses his arms against his chest.

                “Though, I can’t say I’m too surprised, considering what people say about you. I wonder if you really have tried to touch stars before.” You’re unable to bite your tongue in time, and let something dangerous slip out.

                To your surprise, Alexander laughs. The sound grates against your ears and you can’t stop yourself from taking a slight step back. “Sure, kid. You think I’d risk my company’s reputation?”

                “You should be more worried about people thinking you’d sexually harass them.” Whoops. You’re getting protective. It’s time to bail out.

                “Perhaps so.” Alexander sneers down at you, and you silently curse at him for being so much taller than you.

                “Shall we speak another time, Mr Strike?” You step backwards, taking hold of Mettaton’s arm. He had been listening in on the conversation and was all too ready to leave. As you begin to walk away, you hear Mettaton whisper something back to him. You begin to weave around people, all tightly packed into the glittering hotel room, backs almost touching one another in some spots. Once you reach the doors, you shove him into the hallway, closing the door after you. Mettaton’s glaring, cheeks flushed and a childish pout on his lips.

                Mettaton taps his foot, making a show of crossing his arms. “What was that?”

                “Hey, if one of us is going to cross our arms and pout, it’s going to be me.”

                “You don’t need to act like my parent.” Mettaton spits, though his words are still slurred so it doesn’t have the effect he would have wanted.

                “And you need to stop getting close to people like Alexander Strike.”

                “And why’s that?”

                “Because I’ve known him longer than you, and I happen to know he is friends with that man from BB. Is that enough?”

                Mettaton takes a breath and uncrosses his arms. He looks disgusted now, brushing down his front. “Point taken.”

                “Good. You can go back inside and speak to whoever you’d like, now. Just don’t go near him.” Your hands sink into the pockets of your suit again and you sigh. “If you can’t find a good excuse, tell him I don’t want him scouting you.” You bring up your phone with one hand and begin to scroll through notifications when you hear Mettaton move forward.

                He pulls your phone down from your face and leans in closer to you. You can faintly smell alcohol on him, he’s so close to you. “Are you going to stay out here, then?”

                He flutters his eyelashes at you and you feel your heart skip a beat. He really is cute like this. “I’ll keep an eye out.” Your eyes wander down the hallway, avoiding his face.

                “That’s no _fun,_ darling.” He takes your phone from your hand and locks it, taking a step backwards. “You interrupted my last conversation, so you’re going to have to keep me company.” You take a step after him and reach your hand out, taking his bait. He grins and takes a few steps backwards, leading you by your phone. You look absolutely ridiculous. “I’ll give it back if you come inside.”

                “Mettaton, please, I don’t like these events, you know that.” You swipe at his hand and miss, but as he jumps back to dodge you he trips over his own feet. You only see a glimpse of surprise on his face before he sails backwards, his free hand grabbing your wrist. You’re being pulled down with him as your entire sense of gravity shifts, landing on top of him on the floor.

                “I didn’t know you were so eager, gorgeous.” Mettaton teases, his hand still firmly holding your wrist. You shuffle up to a sitting position, and find that you’ve accidentally straddled his waist. You’re so flustered you could die, but Mettaton has a wry smile on his face. Did he plan this? It looks like he did, but you can’t be sure. You notice something soft under your hands and look down.

                “Your chest plate is soft?” Uh, Really? Those are the first words to come out of your mouth? Mettaton giggles and nods his head.

                “Sure is, most of my body is soft. Doesn’t look like it though, does it?” He presses on his chest plate, then on his neck. You can see the material of his body move under his touch, depressing like skin. You’re momentarily mesmerised before he giggles again, bringing you back to your senses. “Wanna feel~?”

                Your eyes flicker down to his waist, to your own legs wrapped around him, pinning him down. This is a bad situation to be in. You shuffle backwards and pretty much fall off him, pulling yourself to your feet as quickly as possible. Mettaton leans up, not even sitting up, just propped up on his elbows and looks up at you. His hair is slightly tousled and your chest flutters again. You curse at yourself for being so easily flustered by him as he bites his lip.

                “Oh my, you’re done with me already?”

                “I wasn’t started!” You snap back, walking over to pick up your phone that he’d dropped sometime during the fall. “G-Go inside, Mettaton.”

                Mettaton sighs, shuffling to his feet and giving you a crestfallen look. It takes all of your self control to not run over and throw your arms around him. He’s probably too drunk to know what he’s doing, not to mention how unprofessional and hypocritical it would be. Mettaton gives you a curt wave before he wanders back inside, immediately introducing himself to a group of women standing by the door and asking them if they’d find drinks with him. You let the door swing shut and glance around the empty hallway.

                You have some work to do, and you might as well start it now. You unlock your phone again and begin scrolling through emails. A long time passes with you replying to requests and messages, sending off timetables and arranging meetings. Eventually, you decide to check on Mettaton. Slipping your phone into your pocket, you push open the large doors and peer into the room. Mettaton is the center of attention, as always, a large glass of champagne in his hand and his arm around a younger woman who looks just about ready to pass out.

                “So there I was beauties, thousands in the audience and more watching at home, right? And the stage lights go out! It was pitch black!” The rather large crowd gathered around him either laugh or look shocked, Mettaton’s eye sparkling with excitement as he continues. “Ssso,” he slurs, “my manager comes up to me, with this look of horror on her face, and she says – ‘Mettaton, the glitter cannons just shorted out the entire stadium!’” The laughter picks up again and you wander over, standing behind a few taller people to just watch him rant.

                Mettaton throws back the glass of champagne in his hand in a few gulps before holding his hand out. An eager man who looks in his twenties quickly replaces the glass with another one and Mettaton thanks him. “You know what I like, beautiful.~” You have to hold in a snort.

                He sways dramatically to the side and is caught by a woman in a sparkling red dress who takes the opportunity to snake a hand over his chest plate. You grit your teeth as you watch her press herself against him and sigh. He’s completely preoccupied with a camera someone’s pointing at him, posing dramatically. You wander over to the photographer and tap their shoulder, passing them a note about the photography rules that are in place at the event. The photographer deletes the photos in front of you and subsequently shuffles off. Mettaton’s attention has bounced again, he’s now complimenting the woman on his shoulder and a few of her friends. One of them is running their hand through his hair and cooing at him. It’s uncomfortable to watch.

                You walk over and tap Mettaton’s arm. He turns to you and shoots you a giddy grin. “Why hello there tall dark and sssssexy.” He slips out of the grip of the woman on his shoulder and steps forward, snaking a hand onto your waist. “Where have you been? We missed you.”

                You resist the urge to let him keep his hand there and push him off gently. “You’re wasted.” You chide. He looks offended, pressing a hand to his chest.

                “Why I never,” He mumbles. “I would never drink during a work event.”

                “You’ve got a drink in your hand right now”

                Mettaton throws a sideways glance to the glass in his hand and then drops it. It smashes everywhere. “No I don’t.”

                You resist the urge to yell. You’re not sure what you’d yell. Probably something obscene. ‘What the fuck Mettaton?’ or ‘Why the fucking fuck did you do that there’s champagne everywhere you cock.’ But instead you stay silent. Mettaton frowns.

                “I was going to drink that.”

                You slap your forehead with your hand. “Mettaton, you’re too far gone. You should leave.”

                Mettaton turns wordlessly and takes a glass from the tower of glasses behind him, beginning to drink from it immediately. “I’m having the most _wonderful_ time, I don’t plan on ending it anytime soon.” He walks forward and attempts to take hold of your shoulder but he stumbles and ends up spilling his drink on his hand, some of it splashes onto your suit jacket. You wonder if he’ll remember that in the morning, and you find yourself feeling determined to make him pay the dry cleaning bill. His hand eventually finds your shoulder, slipping down your arm and then back on your waist. He steps forward and pulls you closer, the smell of alcohol thick in the air. “Why don’t you just relax, sweetheart?” He takes a sip from his glass and then holds it to your lips.

                “Managers aren’t meant to drink at these gatherings.”

                His hand trails down lower and you feel a brief shiver run down your spine. He moves the glass closer to your lips and flutters his eyelashes at you. “Just one?”

                You swallow thickly, glancing at the jealous crowd surrounding you. It takes all of your strength to push him off you. “I’m not drinking, and neither are you.”

                “You’re such a wet blanket.” He groans. You take his hand and pull him away from his legion of fans, his feet stumbling to keep up with you. “Goodbye beauties~!” He calls out as you tug him through the crowd, which to your advantage has somewhat thinned out throughout the evening. Some of the people left behind shoot you looks of despair or disgust, but you don’t care. It’s your job to make sure Mettaton doesn’t make an ass of himself, and the way he was going…

                When the fuck did he slip out of your hand? You turn around to see him wrapped around a tall man in a suit. His hands are resting on the man’s shoulders, but the man’s hands are sliding down Mettaton’s back. You walk over and clear your throat. “You’re not meant to get that close at a formal event, you know.”

                He throws you a look and Mettaton does as well, your eyes flicker to the hands that are moving to cup his ass. You growl, taking Mettaton’s arm just as the man gropes his ass and pull Mettaton off him. “He’s drunk. Please excuse his…behaviour.”

                The man looks at you somewhat incredulously, huffing. “I didn’t have an issue with it.”

                “Some of us do, unfortunately.”

                “You’re a daring one, gorgeous.” Mettaton purrs.

                “Alright Mettaton, let’s go.” You go back to pulling him out of the function room, slamming the large doors shut behind you.

                “You’re really trying to ruin my night, aren’t you?”

                You ignore him, finding your way through the maze of hallways and descending a large flight of stairs into the marble lined lobby. You’re out the door and calling your driver before he can pull away from you. “Darling, will you just slow down and let me-“

                “Mettaton, you’re drunk. Absolutely drunk. And in the morning, when you wake up, you will have to deal with whatever you do tonight.” He’s pouting at you again, and you’re not sure whether you want to kiss him or punch him. “Also, I don’t give a shit what the rules were underground, on the surface you’re not meant to be doing _that_ with strangers while you’re under the influence.”

                Mettaton doesn’t make any effort to retort, crossing his arms and looking up at the sky. You slide your phone back into your pocket right before he sways sideways. You run over and grab him by the waist, narrowly saving him from having a face to face date with the sidewalk. He blinks a few times, gazing down at you. “Mm, thank you sweetheart. I’m alright.”

                “If you say so.” You let go of him slowly, returning your attention back to your phone. Out of the corner of your eye you see him sway again and you move around to his side. He leans on you, one arm around your shoulder.

                “M-Maybe I’m a bit drunk.”

                “D’you think?”

                “Don’t take that tone up with me…I’m famous.” He insists, entirely seriously, and you burst into laughter. “Stop that!”

                “I’m sorry, oh my goodness,” You have to work to control your laughter. “you just – you’re too much.”

                Mettaton’s face grows red, and his brows furrow. “Are you making fun of me, darling?”

                “I would never.” You tease.

                “You know darling, if you were teasing me…” He leans down to whisper in your ear. “I’d have to punith-“ he seems stuck on that syllable for a moment before he pauses. “Bleh, I can’t talk tonight.”

                You burst into laughter again. “Oh Mettaton, that was _so sexy_ , I can see why people swoon over you.”

                He pulls away from your ear and crosses his arms. “I’m always sexy darling. Have you seen my legs?” He says with a slight lisp, making sure to pat his hand to his hip.

                “Who hasn’t?”

                “Plenty of people have felt them tonight, too.”

                “I’m going to tell you all of the embarrassing things you’ve said tonight when you sober up tomorrow.” You sigh, swearing to get revenge. Mettaton rests his head on top of yours and begins humming a vaguely familiar tune. “Comfy?”

                “Mm, absolutely.” He mumbles before beginning to hum again. You recognise the song as something he uses on his shows. You bite back a smart comment and let him lean on you, closing your eyes to listen along. Time seems to move quickly, despite his impressive frame pressing down on you, and before you know it your limo has pulled up. You help Mettaton stumble into the back of the car and take a moment to speak to the driver.

                “Turn off the minibar.”

                The driver nods. “At it again, huh?”

                “When isn’t he?” The two of you share a brief chuckle before you close the door and climb in the back. You’re not sure why you choose to sit in the back, but Mettaton looks grateful for it, patting the seat next to him. You sit down next to him and take out your PDA, running through his schedule for the next day. His head lands on your shoulder with a soft thud and he starts singing under his breath. It’s adorable. It’s very distracting. You struggle to concentrate for a minute or so before you slide the PDA into your pocket in defeat. He’s managed to make you sleepy and relaxed in a number of seconds, and you could choke him for it.

                Well, maybe not right now. Right now you’ll let him sing to you. You won’t fall asleep, but your eyes might just close for a little while…

                “Uh, are you awake back there? We’ve arrived.”

                The driver is calling you. Shit, when did you fall asleep? Mettaton sits up and blinks a few times, giving you a goofy smile. “You look peaceful sweetheart.”

                “Shove off.” You giggle, rubbing your eyes.

               “Do you want me to take you home next?” The driver offers, turning in his seat to look at you.

                “Uh, no thanks. I’m going to make sure Mettaton goes to charge and power down for the night before I go home.”

                “Want me to wait?”

                “It’ll take ages, knowing him. Go home and treat yourself to an early night.”

                “Alright. Give me a call next time you need me.” He waves you off as you help Mettaton out of the car, taking the opportunity to wrap his arms around your shoulders.

                “Carry me.” He orders.

                “In your dreams. You’re made of metal. I can hardly hold your weight just leaning on me.”

                He leans onto you more, burying his head into your neck. “Carry meeeee…” he whines. His lips nuzzle into the skin of your neck and you shiver, feeling your heart beat a little quicker.

                “Absolutely not.” You shrug him off your shoulders and take him by the arm. “We’re walking.” Mettaton makes a whiny noise again.

                “You’re no _fun._ ”

                “I know, I’m horrible and I’m trying to ruin your life.”

                “Your words, not mine.”

                You elbow him just below the chest for that, where his ribs would be if he had any. “I’m going to kick your ass.”

                “Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He laughs at his own joke, snorting loudly. You’re too angry to want to laugh with him, but that doesn’t stop you from laughing anyway.

                The two of you shuffle into the lobby of the apartment complex and into the elevator. The doors slide shut and you’re surrounded on all sides by spotless mirrors, with soft elevator music playing. “You convinced them to play the old resort music?”

                “Of course.” Mettaton grinned, admiring himself in the mirror. “It’s only natural they’d want music as great as this.”

                “You’re so modest.”

                Mettaton is still checking himself out in the mirror, blowing himself a kiss. “I look a bit tipsy.” He mumbles.

                “I hadn’t noticed.” You sigh, the doors sliding open as you reach the top floor. Mettaton stumbles out of the elevator and runs his hand over the scanner at the door, unlocking it. You follow him inside, tailing closely after him to make sure he doesn’t fall over.

                He fumbles with his bedroom door for a few moments before he finally swings it open, following the door as it swings. You grab his shoulder before he leans too far forward and steady him. He shuffles over to his bed and turns, collapsing on his back. He lays still for a moment before holding his hands out and making grabby motions.

                “Come.”

                You snort. “Why?”

                “I need someone to cuddle.”

                Your chest flutters again and you resist the urge to hit yourself. Gritting your teeth, you try to keep your cool. “You’ll be alright. I’m just a phone call away, okay?”

                Mettaton whines. “Come on darling, please?” He sits up to look at you, a sultry grin on his face. “Don’t make me beg.”

                “I’m going to kick you.”

                “Pleeeeeease?” He presses a finger to his lips, trying to look sexy. It works, and you hate how your cheek grow red.

                “Okay, fine.” You wander over and sit down next to him, waiting for him to hug you. He pulls you to his chest. “But just for a while, okay?”

                He pulls you down onto the bed, sinking the two of you into the soft covers. “No way, I’m going to sleep like this.”

                “I’m still in my suit.”

                “I don’t mind.”

                “I have work to finish.”

                “Do it tomorrow.”

                You sigh. “Alright, fine.” You’re going to kick yourself for this in the morning. “But if I feel your hands get grabby, I’m turning you off.”

                “You wouldn’t do that to me.” He nuzzles into your hair.

                “Try me.” You mumble, feeling his hands brushing through your hair. You were already exhausted, but that’s the final kicker. You can feel yourself drifting off into sleep.

~

                It’s the morning. When did that happen? You glance around the room, meeting with pink glittery furniture. You glance down, pink glittery sheets. You spent the night in Mettaton’s room, despite your better judgement. You can hear something sizzling from the kitchen, and you pick yourself up off the bed. Your suit jacket is a mess, so you take it off. Wandering out of Mettaton’s room you see him immediately, humming cheerily as he fries something.

                “How are you this morning, gorgeous?” He calls out and as he spins around you notice he’s wearing a pink apron. Of course.

                “I hate how you don’t get hangovers.” You sigh, patting down your hair. He hums.

                “Not my fault this body is convenient.”

                “I’ll blame Alphys, then.”

                “While you do that, do you want some breakfast? I don’t usually bother with breakfast, but I’m sure you like to eat in the mornings.”

                Your cheeks turn a little pink. “Thanks. I don’t usually get around to it.” You walk over and glance at the pan. “Wow, you don’t have a cooking show for nothing.”

                “Naturally, I’m good at anything, darling.”

                “Oh hush.” You poke him in the side. “Do you remember anything about last night?”

                Mettaton thinks about it for a while, then frowns. “Everything is a blur after my third or fourth drink. I wasn’t…too…embarrassing, was I?”

                You hold in a laugh. “Oh Mr Strike,” you say, impersonating him. “I hear you’re my biggest fan. Tell me more about your love for me.~”

                Mettaton puts on a face. “I didn’t, did I?”

                “You totally did.” You smirk. “And not only Alexander. There was an entire group of people you were wrapped around.”

                Mettaton makes an ‘eurgh’ sound, turning his attention back to the pan. “Did I do anything bad?”

                You feel your muscles tensing up a bit as you remember the thing that threw you over the edge. “Um, I…wasn’t going to bring it up, but…” Mettaton throws you a sideways glance, but when he sees you biting your lip and avoiding his face he turns off the heat to look at you properly without burning his food. “You got groped by someone I didn’t even recognise. I have no idea who it was.”

                Mettaton sucks in air through his teeth. “Hmm, there’s no helping it.” He brushes his hands off on his apron, despite not having anything on them to brush off. He starts absently plating up food. “Thank you for telling me.”

                “Are you bothered by it?”

                “It’s not the furthest I’ve gone in public.” He states, rather simply. You almost choke.

                “God fuck, Mettaton you can’t just-“

                “I was just kidding, sweetheart.” He rubs your head. “I don’t want to repeat that in the future though, it’s really gross to think about.”

                “I’ll say.” You stick your tongue out. “He was so rude and grabby.”

                The glambot groans. “That’s gross. I’m gross when I’m drunk. Why do I let myself do that?”

                “You’re also very cuddly.” You follow him over to the table. “And you hum all the time. It’s really adorable.”

                He perks up a little at that. “I can hum for you anytime, darling. I don’t have to be drunk to do it.”

                “I’ll believe you, dreamboat.” You take your PDA out of your pocket. “Now, let’s talk about today’s schedule.”

      

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was really just something i wrote to relax and unwind so its like....self indulgent and not fantastic but i hope u got some enjoyment out of it yo


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